Healing of the Heart
by MAEday
Summary: A little AU fic that I wrote. Will have 3 chapters and centers around Faramir in the Houses of Healing. Rated for mention of child abuse.Finished!
1. The Houses

A/N

Yay! I finally get to write an LOTR story! And it is about Faramir, my favorite character. If he is also your favorite character, tell me in you _review._ (hint hint)

No flamers, please. They burn.

Disclaimer: I own nothing that you can recognize.

Chapter One: The Houses

He drifted. In and out of life and death, he drifted. Darkness swallowed the light, and he felt himself being sucked into a vortex in which he would never escape. Despair arose in him like a current, sweeping away all hope. What hope can there be, after all, when the Enemy was swiftly destroying the race of men?

But just as he was giving himself over to death, a voice called to him. At first, it sounded like a whisper, a dim echo of reality. But it began to draw nearer, and rose to a crescendo, pulling him gently, yet surely, away from the edge, away from despair. A scent reached him, that of peace and calm which can be felt truly only in the deep recesses of the human soul.

Physically stirring, his eyes fluttered open, taking in the sight of a man bending towards him. In the man's eyes he saw a compassion unseen in the souls of many men. A compassion that reached out and engulfed him in it's loving embrace. And without thought, without contemplation, he knew. Speaking softly, he said, " My lord, you called me. I come. What does the king command?"

"Walk no more in the land of shadows, but awake!" spoke the king. " You are weary. Rest awhile, take food, and be ready when I return."

"I will, lord. For who would lie idle when the king has returned?" he said, looking up adoringly at his ruler. Aragorn's features softened, and he felt great happiness at the recovery of his patient. Lord Faramir was healed-

Or so they all thought. But some wounds go deeper than the skin, even deeper than Aragorn, or, indeed,_ elves_, could cure…

_Where is hope if courage fails?_

_Where are the stars when clouds cover the sky?_

_There is no wind for a boat without sails_

_And no life for those who die_

A/N

Do you like? If you do, **REVIEW**. Be aware that there _will_ be future chapters up ahead. I can't very well end here, now, can I?


	2. The Wound

A/N

Hey, y'all! This is my second chappie! I just want to let you know that I am thinking that I might do a sequel to this. But that is only if I you send enough reviews. I'll be the judge of that.

Disclaimer: check first chapter

Chapter Two: The Wound

_The young boy peered cautiously into his father's rooms, eyes wide with fear. His father looked up from his work impatiently from within the room. He was sitting at his desk writing furiously, and the broken quills that littered the floor bore testimony to the man's fury. "Well boy, stop gawking like a village idiot and come in!" _

_The twelve years old hesitated, slight irritation marring his senses for a few moments. Why couldn't Denethor ever call him by his true name? It was always "boy", or "brat", anything but "Faramir", or, Valar forbid, "son"!_

_But his father's growl quickly broke him out of his thoughts, and he stumbled into the room, kneeling respectfully at his Steward's feet. "W…What is your wish, my l...l…lord?" Faramir stuttered, head bowed in defeat. He knew very well what his father wanted. He smelled alcohol on in the man's breath, and, if you glanced at the parchment that Denethor had written on, you would see that the letters were written in a haphazard scrawl._

_"What is it that I wish? What is it that _I_ wish! I wish that I did not have such a disgrace for a son! You will never measure up to your brother, Boromir, ever. Ever!" _

_Faramir knew that what his father said was true. No one could measure up to his beloved older brother. And even as the blows from his father's whip rained down upon his back, he couldn't help but love his father. Tears ran from Faramir's face. But they were tears of love, not hate. They were the tears of one who had lost all hope of a better life, and instead must accept the horror that was their world. And perhaps learn to love the horror. To love the hate. _

_Vaguely he wondered why he heard screaming…_He woke from his sleep with a start when he realized that it was himself that had been screaming.

……………………………….

He tossed and turned in his bed, drifting in and out of delirium. Irrelative thoughts wafted through his fevered brain. But, on the times that he was fully in charge of his senses, phrases such as "You are worthless!" or "No one loves you!" went over and over in his mind.

With a sigh, he fell back into a restless sleep. Although, at the moment, he was in the Houses of Healing, he didn't doubt for a second that his father would soon order him out of his comfortable bed. As the people of Minas Tirith often said, there was no rest for the Steward's sons. And when he was out of bed, he would no doubt be once more subjected to his father's unkindness.

If only Boromir wasn't dead! Faramir cried out in his thoughts. Even though Boromir couldn't stop what Denethor did, he was still always there for his younger brother. Always there to comfort him. Always there to dry his tears.

……………………….

_Faramir lay in his bed, curled up in a pitiful ball. He trembled, convulsing with unshed tears as his back pulsed steadily in pain. It was covered in welts from his last encounter with his father, and he was filled with mental as well as physical hurt. _

_He looked up as his bedroom door opened, revealing the twenty-year old face of Boromir. His smile, complete with growing facial hair, suddenly stiffened with alarm when he saw fifteen-year old Faramir sobbing silently into his sheets. "What is wrong, little brother?" He asked, moving swiftly to gather the younger man into his arms. _

_Boromir frowned as he heard Faramir wince when he touched his back. Whispering soothing reassurances, he gently pulled back his brother's shirt to reveal scars, both old and new, that covered the abused back. "Father has been at it again." Boromir murmured, so low that Faramir could hardly hear it. Struggling to control his anger, he went and fetched some medical balm to clean the nasty cuts. When he was done, he held Faramir close to him and sang an old Gondorian lullaby as his brother fell asleep:_

_Hush, hush, hush, my baby_

_Don't you shed a tear_

_Hush, hush, hush, my baby_

_No harm will come near_

_When the tempest strikes_

_And the lightning lights_

_And the stars fade away_

_Hush, hush, hush, my baby_

_I will always be here_

……………………………

Tears streamed down Faramir's face. But you aren't here, brother! He thought. And harm has already come near!

A/N

Well that was a bit longer than the last chapter! Even (gasp) a bit more angsty! Go me! And review!

A/N/N

Poor Fara! I am evil! (bwahahaha!)


	3. The Healing

A/N

Wow! You like it! You really like it! Thanks so much for all your reviews. They have definitely made my day.

Lilan: I don't really like the beatings much, either. But I had to do that to make this story, so I guess we all are going to have to live with it. I do like your softer Denethor, though. It really makes him a more realistic and human character. I might try to do a one-shot fic about Denethor the Misunderstood sometimes, but I doubt I would write it that well.

Also, I am glad that you liked what I did with the brothers, Faramir and Boromir. I was a bit hesitant to write that scene seeing as how I didn't have many words to describe their relationship.

The hate and love sentences were actually, quite literally, last minute. I hadn't liked the original words that I had put in, because, quite frankly, they didn't really connect with the feelings that I wanted Faramir to portray in later scenes. Thank you so much for your review!

Raksha the Demon, Ranan Ningue, and Midgette: Yes, Faramir is fantastic, isn't he?

Coolio02 and Lilan: Sorry that these chapters are so short! If you check my profile page, I added a few sentences explaining why. I am afraid, also, that this chapter is also a little short as well. I'll try better in future stories!

And thank you to everyone else who replied. You guys rock!

Disclaimer: check first chapter

Chapter One: The Healing

Aragorn walked idly through the Houses of Healing, deep in thought. He would leave Minas Tirith in a few days to ride to war and possible death. This was a chilling thought. The Houses provided for him a certain measure of peace impossible to attain in the rest of the White City.

He looked up to see that his feet had carried him to the door of Lord Faramir's room. From within he heard a strange sound, a type of mangled sobbing muffled by the heavy oaken doors. Without thinking too much about it, Aragorn entered the room to see what was wrong. Inside was Faramir, writhing and convulsing in his sheets.

Hesitating a moment in shock, but soon gathering his wits about him, the heir to the throne of Gondor crossed the room and gathered the feverish man up into his arms. Faramir burrowed himself up into the other's embrace, whimpering, "Boromir…Boromir… please don't leave. I feel s…so cold." Aragorn realized that the young man thought him to be his older brother. Murmuring words of comfort, he gently laid Faramir back down onto his pillows.

"What is the matter, my friend?" the king asked softly. Faramir replied, breaking into breathless sobs, "T…The nurses' t…they say that…that…father is…_dead_." Opening eyes that had been kept closed, he gasped in surprise when he saw Aragorn sitting beside him. "My lord, I am sorry to have been so disrespectful! I am afraid that I have not yet shown you the courtesy you deserve."

Faramir struggled to rise from his bed to bow, wanting to show the king that he adored and admired so greatly his loyalty, but was gently pushed back down by the kind hands of Aragorn. "Peace, Lord Faramir, allow your hurts to heal before trying to stand up again. You will only make them worse if you don't."

Faramir hung his head in shame, unable to do even the tiniest respects for his king. Oh, but there are so many hurts. He thought sadly. A slight movement caused him to wince slightly. Aragorn noticed this, and said, "Allow me to see your wounds."

Taking his words as a command, Faramir allowed Aragorn to remove his bandages. Noting with satisfaction that the arrow wounds were healing cleanly with no sign of infection, he opened his mouth to tell Faramir. But then the man noticed a scar. It could easily have been any old battle scar, seeing as how it was just a thin line of red skin that curved from the tip of Faramir's collar bone to his back. But something drew Aragorn to it, a feeling that something was not quite right.

Carefully turning Faramir onto his side, Aragorn looked at his back. He hissed with sympathy and shock, gazing in horror to see the skin disfigured with many cuts and welts that overlapped each other, barely leaving an inch of untouched skin. Faramir averted his eyes in shame as the king laid him back down. Aragorn saw this, and gripped the younger man's chin, forcing his subject to look at him.

"Who has done this and why?" He questioned forcefully, concern written over his face. Faramir spoke, quietly and hesitantly, "I will not name him, for he is now passed from this world and I do not wish to disrespect the dead. He was a great man, who I loved, but who, through no fault of his own, fell into darkness." Turning his face aside, tears streaming from his eyes, he spoke even more softly, "He was all I had left, and now he is gone. I am all alone." The last word faded off into the air, leaving the two men in a great silence. Shifting uncomfortably against his king's level gaze, he gave a start when he heard Aragorn speak.

"You are not alone. I will be here for you." And, so saying, he held Faramir's hand tightly and knelt before his bedside. So in awe was Aragorn of this man, who, despite all that had been done to him, had continued to love and forgive everyone, that he wished to somehow help him.

"I, Aragorn, son of Arathorn, swear by the blood of my ancestors that I will stand by you, Faramir, son of Denethor, till death takes me or you dismiss me from your sight."

Faramir looked on wonderingly as one of the greatest men in all of Middle Earth swore an oath of friendship to him. Him! Who could never live up to his father's expectations, Denethor's youngest brat, was being asked to be a companion to his king!

"Do you accept my fealty, and do you promise to return it?" "I do, with all my heart!"

And Faramir, at that moment, felt warmth spread over him. It was the warmth felt by those who knew that somewhere, someone in the world cared for them. It was the warmth that he had not felt for many months now, and was trying to understand once more. Even though there was a long time to go before Faramir would be able to fully break out of his shell of sorrow, it did crack slightly on that day. That day began the healing of the heart.

_Dreaming is knowing_

_That there is something more_

_A friend is a star, glowing_

_Guiding me as I soar_

A/N

I am finished! I hope you like this and what I did with Aragorn because this is has more talking than my other chapters. I don't like talking, because I am afraid of having them saying something that was OOC. If you have not yet noticed, I am quite paranoid about my fanfic.


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